


Lipstick Theory

by lishiyo



Category: Thai Actor RPF, เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, MewGulf - Freeform, One Shot, RPF, Very much fictional, this is pure sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lishiyo/pseuds/lishiyo
Summary: Gulf is late on his lover's biggest day, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world for it. Mew Suppasit has other ideas.(This is a pure fluff/sap/angst drabble on #MewGulf at Mew's Seasons of You global press conference yesterday. Inspired by: 1) P'James's comment that "they went into the dressing room, and wouldn't let anyone in." and 2) Gulf's suspiciously smudged lips afterwards.)
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Comments: 9
Kudos: 154
Collections: All





	Lipstick Theory

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is PURE FLUFF/SAP/ANGST crack, not anywhere near my real take on whatever happened, I don't think that Gulf even remotely felt this angsty way - I just had to write something angsty after streaming Season of You on repeat made me super sappy 😭 
> 
> If you haven't seen it, check it out on youtube (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDIigZMTTNw) and read the lyrics (https://twitter.com/imafangirluv/status/1289500767691268099), it's SO good!
> 
> For context to what "lipstick theory" is, see P'James's comment about them locking themselves in the dressing room (https://twitter.com/MewracleKiss/status/1289534119001481222) and waanjai detectives discovering how MewGulf magically exchanged lipsticks at some point afterwards (https://twitter.com/kanawhut1/status/1289620529494646784). MGPFG.

He is so late.

There's a hard lump in his throat that's been there for the last hour, threatening to burst into something else. Swallowing is impossible; he feels like he can barely breathe right now, pulse thrumming like a hot engine in his ears. He can't stop his fingers from wandering to go fidget at his sleeves, the hair (all styled, but too bad, just add that to the list of things Gulf's messing up today); the bouquet of roses that've finally arrived, huge and pretty and extravagant-looking. And over an hour late.

"Calm down," P'Best says. "Breathe, kiddo. It's not so bad, he'll understand."

Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong today. Gulf had gotten up early for his styling, thinking it'd be tricky to get this one perfect - _special occasion_ but not too fancy, nothing that would enough distract from Mew - but the traffic had been bad and the stylist was late. Then he started getting cramps a half hour after his light breakfast, which he'd prayed was nerves but the dance his stomach was making said no, and that had been *all morning*; he's still feeling queasy now. Then he'd gotten a call from the florist, frantically apologetic, and then another from his dad saying that something was wrong with the car, could Gulf get P'Best to drive him; P'Best, who lives on the opposite side of Bangkok.

What was Mew going to think? When his own partner - one of the most important people in his life, after his family - shows up 45 minutes late to the one thing he's been working on for over a year. The one thing he's poured his soul in, invested not just over a million baht but countless music classes and late nights at the studio, hiding his exhaustion behind dark shades and his usual dazzling smile. What was he going to think: that Gulf forgot, that Gulf was napping in like he didn't care? 

The thought floats up from a dark place: _I almost don't want to go_.

"You can't," he whispers. Pushes his fingernails into his palm, angrily. He _has_ to do this. Even if he misses everything, even if he shows up after everyone's already left and Mew is doing clean-up, he has to show up. He might have to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness as the world's crappiest boyfriend/nong/life-partner/whatever-it-is-they-are, but he can't let phi think he didn't try. 

"Alright, show us a smile," P'Best says, one hand waving his phone and the other beckoning the lights person. Seeing the look on Gulf's face, his expression softens. "You're a damn fine actor, kid. No matter how you feel right now, you can draw on that."

So Gulf does. A [quick video message](https://twitter.com/gulfkanaverse/status/1289523920492666880?s=20), smile pulled on his face, the management-approved words coming out automatically: _Congratulations. Wish you success. Thank you for always being beside me._

_I want you to be there always._

"Traffic doesn't look too bad," P'Best says when they're in the car, and Gulf has V-Live on and burning his phone battery. The MC is wordy and taking a long time, that is good. Mew's entrance onto the stage is marked by the comments section going wild; Gulf stays silent, staring at Mew. His phi looks incredible, like always: all red and black, bold colors, fearless colors. His smile is painfully handsome, Korean idol handsome. Only the people most familiar with him would notice the little signs of how affected he really is: he's overwhelmed right now, his phi, no doubt some of which are nerves but there must be a whole sea of emotions battering him right now. 

The whole world has shown up. The whole world is sending love to Mew Suppasit. 

Gulf should be there. 

When they finally pull into the parking lot, the fans spot them so fast Gulf only just has time to pull on his Gulf-Kanawut-polite-smile before they're [ringed around the car with their phones out](https://twitter.com/tuesdaydream/status/1289505762444627971?s=20), cheering. He [smiles and waves](https://twitter.com/gulffyluv/status/1289502309630664704?s=20) as security clears out a path, trying to keep his head up and steps measured, trying to ignore the way his heart feels like it wants to drop out of his chest. Cameras track their entire way in as if Gulf is a famous moviestar finally arrived at his wedding.

_Nothing's wrong_ , is what his bearing is supposed to convey. Gulf is late, but better late than never. 

[A reporter catches him](https://twitter.com/Since2003Love/status/1289632742196408320?s=20) by the courtyard gates before he makes it inside. "Who is the bouquet for?" she asks, as if it isn't obvious.

"P'Mew krub," he says. It comes out shyer than he expected and he drops his gaze to the camera; weird how no matter how many times he says the name, just saying it flutters something in his stomach. 

"Why did you choose red flowers?"

Now he has to duck his head, gazing at the bouquet clutched in his arm. He knows this dance. What the reporters want to tease him out to say, spilling the game. 

"Is there any meaning to it krub?"

They exchange laughs. "You can decide," she says. 

"Well, red color represents love krub." That was safe enough; love is a big word. The kind of word that can include a lot of meanings, and hide the important ones. 

"Nnn," she coos. "Whose love?"

"Ah?"

"Whose love?"

"Of course it's mine krub." With a softness that unfolds into a smile. 

***

He hadn't known the first thing about flowers when he went to the flower shop days ago. He knew he wanted roses, because he wanted something a little special-er than what others would probably be giving him, but he wasn't sure what color, or how many. 

"Well, what do you want the flowers to mean?" The florist had asked him, a gentle smile on her face as Gulf hung anxiously by the catalogue at the door. He must look like a nervous young man, trying to buy flowers for the first time for some crush.

He'd hesitated for a moment before he replied. All of a sudden, he was remembering the nine roses. 

"Something like, 'I love you, want the best for you'," he said.

"And, 'I want to be with you forever'," he said.

"Then you definitely want red." She smiled. "How about [seventy-seven](https://twitter.com/BooBiiinLove/status/1289615268574986241)?"

***

[Mew flashes a smile](https://twitter.com/mewgulfkings/status/1289565638042587136) and jerks a nod at him when Gulf walks in.

The burst of hope-relief-fondness that springs to life in his chest is tempered by the knowledge that Mew is a consummate professional, he wouldn't sulk in public no matter how annoyed he is at Gulf. Gulf sits in the front-row and watches the rest of the song perfectly still, trying not to draw the attention that he knows follows his every movement - instagram stories right now are being uploaded all around the web, going wild over his arrival. But this is Mew's day, Mew's moment, and Gulf will be damned if he causes any more commotion than he already has.

When the show ends, he's not sure -- but then someone places a light touch on his arm, and nods to the stage, and [he goes up](https://twitter.com/Honeylemon9197/status/1289507921387114498?s=20) with the bouquet. The look that Mew passes him is brief and utterly polite before it passes to the roses and then the camera, and Gulf's heart sinks a little but forces a graceful smile on the cameras start clicking and voices drown them in oohs and awws. 

Mew's still figure is somehow both a tangible pressure besides his, and a _vacancy_ ; a lack. The small gap of air between them is a mile. They hold the bouquet between them more like a screen than a child. 

Then Mew's voice drops, as if he's saying something to him, and Gulf - can't stop himself from looking at him, the most handsome man on earth. 

"The flowers are nice krub."

"I hope so krub," Gulf hears himself saying. Then in a quiet rush: "I was late phi. So late. I have to explain -"

"Shh," Mew says. "Not here." And then he's pulling the bouquet out of Gulf's arms, passing them off to the staff on the floor. Gulf gets off stage as he does so, making small automatic bows to them on the way down. 

Right. Of course. There are more people standing in line to take pictures on stage with Mew; this is a press conference. This is Mew's press conference. What is Gulf thinking?

A touch on his shoulder stops him. 

"There's a backstage, you know." It's Mama Jongcheveevat, as poised and elegant as Gulf has ever seen her. The look in her eye is soft, almost unbearably so. "If you want to wait for him there."

Gulf swallows, and nods, and excuses his way out, feeling almost too light now without the weight of the bouquet, like a balloon with too much space to wander; or the loose end of a thread, untethered from the other. 

***

He tries to hole up in the dressing room.

It's P'James who catches him, and launches into a gush of delight - how _radiant_ Gulf looks, how proud he must be, how proud they all are right now - while Gulf bobs his head and agrees. Krub. Krub. Yes krub. Absolutely krub. 

"- _and the roses!_ How romantic, I thought I was going to pass out -"

"Not in the dressing room, I hope."

Gulf's head whips around. Yes, right there: it's a familiar figure leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets. The man of the hour himself: Mew Suppasit, jacket tugged loose around his collar, a small smirk on his face. But he's looking at P'James, not Gulf.

"Not until you showed up," P'James sighs. " _God_ you're handsome. Just strike me down right here, but not before you two promise me another show."

"I already said yes," Mew says, smiling. "If nong agrees to it, that is -"

"Yes," Gulf says quickly. "That sounds wonderful, P'James."

The man claps in delight. "I can't wait! You two darlings, I want to know everything, have you reached the next level yet, when is the marriage -"

Mew laughs. "Not now, P'James - all I've been doing today is hear myself talk, I'm ready to take a breather. Give us a moment, will you?"

The man's eyes widen - he clearly has to restrain himself from letting out a squeal. "Yes, right, of course krub - I'll get out now, let you and nong have some [privacy](https://twitter.com/MewracleKiss/status/1289534119001481222) -" 

Mew watches P'James's back as he heads out, then shuts the door. Then locks it.

Then finally, _finally_ , turns to look at Gulf. 

Gulf's breath catches in his throat. 

"Mew. . ."

 _God_ he's handsome. Even though he must be exhausted - there's a slight shadow under his eyes, Gulf knows he was working up until the morning on the last touches to the MV - none of it shows on his face. There's a cool glow to his skin, and a hint of gloss on his lips, crinkles around his mouth where he's been smiling all day. 

He's not smiling now. 

The gaze that matches Gulf's is dark, liquid, searching. The gaze could wreck mountains and move seas. The gaze pushes at a door in Gulf he didn't realize was there. 

"Mew, I'm sorry." The swallow sounds loud to his own ears. "I missed it. I missed everything. I know - I know I have excuses, because everything just - went wrong today, I swear, I even woke up early, I wasn't napping or anything like that. But . . . everything just sounds like an excuse, I know. The bottom line is, I wasn't there."

Silence.

"You're the most important person in my life, and this was your big day, and I . . . I fucked up. I should've done better. I'm sorry."

Mew doesn't move. Gulf drops his eyes to his hands, which are gripping each other now.

"You must hate me right now. I'm a garbage boyfriend. The worst. I suck. "

The movement takes him by surprise: so fast that at one moment, Gulf is staring at the ground, and the next, he's right in Mew's collar, the black shirt pressed up against his nose. 

_He smells good_ , is Gulf's first thought. Dazedly.

 _That arm strength,_ is Gulf's second. 

"First of all," the voice murmurs in his ear. "You're wrong. You didn't miss everything."

"Second of all," - and the grip around his waist tightens, pulls him in closer, a vise so hot his whole chest feels like it's on fire, pressed into Mew's - 

"... do you think I'd ever allow anyone to say those things about my nong?"

"I -" Gulf starts. Stops.

"The only thing I hate," Mew's voice is quiet, "is letting the person I care about most feel this way."

The heartbeat is loud, so loud. An ocean wave, crashing on the rocks.

"The only thing that matters to me," Mew says, "is that _tua-eng_ is here with me right now."

"Um," Gulf says, trying not to sound too watery, and failing miserably. 

Mew pushes his face in Gulf's hair, huffs a soft laugh. This is a place he could stay in forever, Gulf thinks. 

"Did you know," Mew says, "How nervous I'd been all day? Just thinking, no one's actually going to like this song, everyone's going to think it's sappy -"

"Ok that's dumb," Gulf says. "Everyone _loves_ it."

"- and then you walked in, and all of my worries disappeared." Gulf feels the smile against the top of his head. "Because I remembered all of the feelings I had when writing it. Whatever people think about it, the song is real. Those feelings are real. So I want it to be out there."

"I'm going to cry and you're going to smudge my makeup," Gulf whispers.

"Good thing we're in the dressing room," Mew laughs lightly. "Aren't we masters of emergency foundation by now." The necklace is a cool touch against Gulf's burning face, and he sighs and pushes his nose in deeper, wanting to melt into the firm, solid warmth clasped so tightly around his, like it never wants to let him go. 

They're silent for a moment, just rocking.

The blurry shape of a thought emerges in Gulf's mind. "Did you see [the ribbon](https://twitter.com/marriedmewgulf/status/1289505287150292992/photo/2), phi?"

"Krub." Mew brushes a gentle finger through his hair. "I loved it. Thank you for always being by my side."

"Mm." Gulf tilts his head back, peeking up at Mew's face. "We've been through a lot, haven't we."

Gulf's eyes travel over the answering smile. There's something he wants to say, but he's not good with words the way Mew is. Neither of them lie but there are some things they've said so often that it's hard to tell what's sprung from fantasy or from themselves, what's for the fans and the press and the romantic fiction or for nothing more than each other. Sometimes the lines are hard to keep apart. Sometimes the same things Gulf says in public, he wants to use in private, but then it almost feels cheaper, as if the words have been used up already. 

_The feelings are real though_ , Gulf thinks.

"I'll be there at your next song, promise," he says.

Mew's gaze dips to his mouth for just a split second, the reflex of his pleasure that Gulf enjoys so much. "I'd be very happy with that krub."

"Then the one after that, when you become a famous music artist," Gulf says, teasing. "Let's just say . . . [let's stay together for a long time](https://twitter.com/BB_Sstar/status/1286891309320429570)?"

Mew is quiet for a moment before he responds.

"And after that," he says, and then his mouth is pressing against Gulf's, so softly and gently at first, and then Gulf lets his mouth fall open and pushes back, tongue sweeping the furnace of Mew's. And then they're crashing, breaking, looping into each other. It's bright fire and shuddering seas, a sky cracked open, an earth swaying beneath their feet. It's morning sun and warm breeze. It's drizzle wind and night star.

 _Every season_ , Gulf thinks.

***

***

Gulf leaves early. He has a schedule, and the guilt about leaving early after arriving late is soothed if only slightly by the knowledge that today is not MewGulf's day, but Mew's. 

Hours later, when Mew finally gets out, Gulf has finished his schedule, listened to the song maybe four hundred times, fielded dozens of teasing texts from friends and family (the smudgy lipstick is apparently very suspicious, Gulf really thought they'd gotten away with that one), and somehow, incredibly, doesn't make it to the condo before him. 

"Ugh," Gulf says when he walks in. Chopper looks up, then plops over without even a bark; poor Chopper has had enough for the day.

"Welcome home," Mew says, from somewhere in the kitchen.

The kitchen smells nice, like basil stirfry. Gulf's eyes rest on the bouquet on the counter for a second, then to the man behind it, pulling cartons out of the take-out bag, already in his t-shirt and boxers. 

"Aaand I'm late again phi," Gulf sighs. "Sorry na. Do you think you could forgive me?"

"Didn't you hear [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDIigZMTTNw)? I've been waiting for 29 years," Mew smiles. "What's a few minutes more?"

~*~ Fin ~*~

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to hit me up I have a #MewGulf stan account - https://twitter.com/kanawhut1 - where I obsess over these two and am going to try experimenting with twitter-fic AUs <3 They'll still be posted here just because AO3 is far easier to read but I think twitter-fic is super interesting!


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